A Healer's Oath
by JustInunotaisho
Summary: Orihime must make a choice: to hold onto her healer's oath and wipe away Matsumoto Rangiku's tears - or hold onto all that the Gotei 13 fought for.


**FYI: I'm not Inunotaishou - I'm his sister, RedMiko - check our author page if you're confused. :) **

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tite Kubo. I just wish my brain worked like his…_

Rangiku is crying…

Ebbing and flowing, the wild sobs carry across the battlefield; mixing with the blood and the bones and the dying. The air, stale to begin with in Hueco Mundo, is thick with sweat and the unique combination of ozone, the mustiness of old death, and hot ash - the scent of bankai multiplied.

The smell of bankai used to fill Orihime with a kind of terrified joy when she smelled it; it so often came in together with Kurosaki-kun's scent. Smelling it would mean he was fighting with his all to protect his nakama. And, in the end, not even Aizen had been able to stand in its way, succumbing to his black flame and shattering in its wake.

But now, she flits between wounded, healing as fast as her Shun Shun Rikka will allow her - there is no time to heal them completely because others lie just as close to death. Instead, she stabilizes them until they can be worked on by Unohana and the Fourth Division. Tsubaki sits on her shoulder, lecturing her on his own damaged wing - but she ignores him for now, the damage is repairable but certainly not life-threatening. Rangiku's wails, however, are harder to shove from her mind and she glances at the fukutaichou.

The blond shinigami lies flung across the body of a man - silver-haired, eyes closed, a faint smile on his lips even in death. One arm dangles from exposed tendons, the other lies two feet away, fingers still wrapped around a Zanpakuto. An enormous slash across his midsection seeps blood onto Rangiku's robes and across her arms as she clutches the man's form. There is a gap of space between the girl and the body and the rest of the Shinigami - and the looks that are aimed towards her are ones of anger, pity, and faint satisfaction and relief.

But Orihime can't feel the relief. Not now. Not when so many lie dying. She bites her lip and suddenly feels the loneliness settle in. Kurosaki-kun is helping bandage, as best he can - there's nothing left for him to fight. Ishida is helping him, voicing his surprise at Ichigo's deft work. _After all, he lives at a small hospital_, Orihime smiles. Chad helps move the wounded to stretchers so they can be transported back to Soul Society and the Seireitei's hospital wards. His large arms, bandaged as they are and filled with muscle, are gentle as he hands Rukia to Renji.

Orihime's smile fades as she looks back at Rangiku.

"You could bring him back, you know."

The rough voice startles her and her healing shield stutters a moment as she jumps. She turns to see Grimmjow sitting nearby, his hands in his pocket and his eyes half-closed. He poses a problem to the Shinigami - Arrancar born of Hollow, yet he had been invaluable to them in this battle. His released form served as a perfect defense to those who lay healing beneath Orihime's hands while the rest fought the remaining Espada. For now, he is left alone, the least of their current worries.

She can't speak and he scoffs. "You can heal the wounded. You healed me. There's enough of him left to fix him. If you want it bad enough."

The words are familiar and she can hear Tsubaki's voice from long ago, telling her that she couldn't throw him half-assedly. "You have to have a killing intent!" she remembers him shouting at her. "I can't do my job unless you want me to!"

She stares into Grimmjow's fierce blue eyes, speechless.

He snorts and stands. "Wish the woman would shut up." His voice is gruff but Orihime can still hear the faint…compassion? Concern? Whatever it is, Orihime has never heard it coming from him and so it hits deep and as he saunters away, she tunes into Rangiku's sobs and looks over again. In her mind, she can see the arms reconnecting, the flesh molding together, the chest rise and fall, the eyes open - or not… But in her heart, such a feeling of dread….

"I have to want it badly enough," she whispers as she finishes her current healing. No one seems to notice as she, too, stands and begins picking her way towards Rangiku. She leafs through her memories, remembers Rangiku's words as Orihime wrestled with her jealousy of Rukia, remembers the look of deep sadness as Ichimaru Gin rose with Aizen, remembers the full belly laughs they shared over Orihime's cooking, remembers the blue eyes turning to steel as she prepared for a fight. To make Rangiku happy would be everything.

The flicker of doubt, however, is steady. The man she would have to bring back… Ichigo would hate her. After they'd fought so hard, to have their sacrifice partially destroyed because of her wish to repay the fukutaichou's kindness… Ichigo would never understand. And that made her heart go cold.

Metallic and sickly sweet, the blood fumes rise around her, melding with Rangiku's delicate perfume. Orihime crouches beside her and hugs her, her eyes on the body. The face muscles are relaxed and, for a moment, Orihime can pretend he is sleeping and will wake up kinder for it. That maybe she can reject just enough that he'll rise with less malice and more compassion and make Rangiku even happier.

"Rangiku-chan," she whispers. She has to hold onto that hope - the hope that she can change more than physical damage. Tsubaki seems to know what she's thinking and tenses - but he doesn't speak. Around them, the shinigami go on to do what they have to - it's a distraction from reality even as they stumble over bodies and smear the blood and the dust and the sweat on their faces. Over the black robes, she can see the shock of blue hair and can see him watching her from the corner of his eye, even as he gazes out over the wastes of Hueco Mundo. "Rangiku-chan."

"Orihime-chan!" Rangiku's gasp carries its hopes - and settles like a lead yoke across Orihime's shoulders. So much hope, it stifles and constricts and strains Orihime's resolve. There are so many things that could go wrong, even if he didn't wake up. "Orihime-chan! Please." Rangiku clutches at Orihime's dress - the same white robes the Arrancar wear - and stares up at Orihime, her eyes frantic and still filled with tears.

The red-rimmed, grief-filled eyes are enough and suddenly Orihime knows that if she were in Rangiku's position and Ichigo lay there in pieces, she would beg too…

And so she raises slender fingers to the hair clips, filling her mind with the image of the way things should be instead of what they are…

"Watashi wa…"

What if it were Ichigo?

"…kyozetsu suru…"

Orihime's closes her eyes - she doesn't want to see the rest of their faces when they realize what she is doing. She doesn't want to face Ichigo.

"Soten kisshun!"

The universe shifts…

…muscle and bone and blood reform and remeld,..

…good as new…

And Ichimaru Gin opens his eyes.

--

_A/N: I hope Grimmjow lives... And Gin, too... I really do. _

--

_Japanese translations:_

_Nakama: treasured companions (stronger meaning than just good friends)  
__Shun Shun Rikka: Orihime's hairpin spirits.__  
fukutaichou: lieutenant, second in command.__  
Watashi wa kyozetsu suru: I reject  
Soten kisshun: The healing shield._


End file.
